The quickstep compulsory, like most compulsories of its era, found it appropriate to substitute the face-to-face dance hold of its floor inspiration with kilian. Where the dance calls for a standard 4/4 time signature, the compulsory is in 2/4 time, making the task of music selection a little more challenging than simply seeking out any designated Standard Quickstep CD. This technical step-by-step video breakdown of the quickstep, courtesy of the ISU, is a useful visual resource and, paired with this short lesson on Standard quickstep, reveals indeed very little overlap at all between genres: while a case can be made for straightness of frame, there is no readily apparent commonality between steps or general rhythm and pattern of movement. This is, in essence, another case of the r(h)umba.
Nevertheless, the dance's emphasis on quick, light movement is at least suggested in strong compulsory performances, such as this first-place rendition from Marina Anissina and Gwendal Peizerat at the 2002 Olympics:
And, as the foundation of this season's junior short dance, choreographers and teams have made an effort to surround the perhaps questionable pattern with footwork and holds more reflective of the heritage, as in, for one very successful example, this from Kaitlin Hawayek and Jean-Luc Baker:
But now that it's been established what quickstep is not, it might be instructive to take a little more time to consider what it is. The style is of the Jazz Age, having developed from the foxtrot -- a quicker-paced version of such -- as well as the Charleston and other more specific vernacular dances of the day. Some historical detail is offered here, while this page provides a solid breakdown of the style from a technical angle. Speaking in the most general sense, the dance will be marked by the pace and patterns of its footwork, including elements like hops, runs, and kicks, and a basis in syncopation -- another legacy of its jazz heritage.
This demonstration of both basic and advanced patterns is a useful reference, particularly the advanced pattern beginning at 1:20:
While truer quickstep elements have been incorporated into programs using a quickstep rhythm (see, for example, much of 3:33 and on in this 2011 free dance from Maia & Alex Shibutani), for the general purposes of ice dance, a far better comparison can be drawn between real quickstep and the compulsory pattern that in 2008 supplanted its skating counterpart version for senior dancers: the Finnstep, also the foundation of this season's senior short dance. Created as Finland's Susanna Rahkamo & Petri Kokko's 1994-95 Original Set Pattern dance, it is far more boisterous and open than either a compulsory or Standard quickstep, but also carries through some degree more of the latter's spirit and technical nuance:
Consider, for example, the very familiar sequence from about 0:43 through 0:55 alongside the run from 1:46 through 1:52 in the above quickstep video. The holds vary, the quickstep incorporates more turn, but the approach of the footwork is far more comparable. What is attempted on ice with the Finnstep's deliberate hops and short steps versus more sustained blade runs can much more readily be perceived as an authentic attempt at translating quickstep.
This season's short dance and its multiple manifestations will be explored in greater depth with the next few entries here, as its optional paired rhythms -- foxtrot, Charleston, and swing -- are considered along with thematic and stylistic subgenres utilized throughout certain programs.
With Alexandra Aldridge and Daniel Eaton taking on traditional Indian dance in their 2013-14 season free dance, it may be timely to review Indian dance's on-ice history -- a lengthier one than some may know.
Most demonstrations of Indian dance in Western outlets, whether an ice dance program or a routine on So You Think You Can Dance, is termed Bollywood, drawing its inspiration from the somewhat hybridized style of movement presented in the lavish dance sequences from that world of film. The best beginner's guide to Bollywood dance, complete with image and video, may come from BBC. Also worth consulting is this excellent brief history of Bollywood dance, from its earlier days rooted in classical Indian styles to later influences from Western popular dance. Movement is thoroughly explored here, but perhaps the central point worth noting is the foundation of Indian dance upon gesture. While this specific characteristic can mark out the style and make it perhaps rather subject to mimicry, the import of each gesture is great and thus Western dancers -- and ice dance teams -- have more often than not taken an effort to learn from teachers of the style.
The most famous take on Bollywood on ice, of course, belongs to Meryl Davis and Charlie White, who were well-placed to make a big splash with their interpretation. The team and coach/choreographer Marina Zoueva worked with a former professional dancer in an effort to understand and faithfully reproduce the dance's arm and body movements to the ice, while also paying mind to relative authenticity in costuming:
The program's callbacks to its source material are many. Davis's pose at 3:36 is quite explicitly a reference to the image of the Nataraj. Gesture and shape are utilized throughout the dance, including in element work, and take note as well of the head and neck movements at 0:56-0:58, 1:28, and 1:53, and the body positions at 1:13-1:15 and 3:02-3:05, which harken to traditional bharatanatyam's demi-plie in first position, as discussed in the above article.
But as a comparative note, it is worth taking a look at the original dance sequences from which the music for Davis and White's program was drawn: Kajra Re, Silsila Ye Chaahat Ka, and the purest of the dance numbers, Dola Re Dola:
Strongly-choreographed as their effort is, though, Davis and White were not the only or even first team to explore the possibilities of Bollywood and traditional Indian dance movement on the ice. In a twist of fate, in the same season in which Davis and White's original dance appeared, the novice team of Madeline Heritage and Nathaniel Fast also competed a Bollywood program using one of the same music cuts:
The team's opening pose, primarily Heritage's position, is its own take of sorts on the Nataraj, which they immediately follow with several quick side-by-side steps and a twizzle and glide into the demi-plie position. Despite the requirements of the free dance, nods to Bollywood are continued in their subsequent footwork, including the knee bends at 1:19 and 1:20 and dynamic arm positions from 1:31-1:34, and carried through the entrance and interstitial steps in their twizzles at 1:40 and the arms in the second spin position at 3:07, leading into a return to some side-by-side dance work. Heritage's lift positions, too, also reflect snapshots taken from Indian dance. Although imperfectly executed, the team's free dance can rival Davis and White's OD as the most consistently carried-through attempt at reproducing Bollywood movement on ice.
Of course, despite the nods made by both teams in some steps and positioning, the lower body components of the original Bollywood examples -- the hip motion and isolations, the light and swift-moving footwork, the weight-shifting -- are, like genres previously explored along the lines of hip hop and modern, not easily translatable to ice. But what most marks out Bollywood dance -- and most challenges its interpretation in a competitive ice dance program -- is its scope and scale. The Bollywood dance sequence is not created to be much less than spectacle, a feat rather difficult to replicate by two parties in a brightly-lit but sparsely-accoutred ice rink.
But presenting its own challenges is classical Indian dance, of which bharatanatyam might be the most well-known example, as well as that style which informs Aldridge and Eaton's approach. While bharatanatyam is too comprised in large part of gesture, it is equally reliant on footwork. The building block of the bharatanatyman is, in fact, the adavu, a combination of hand, leg, and overall body movements. While some attempt might, again, be made to nod to these postures when choreographically permissible, it is again down more to the mudras, or hand gestures, to suggest traditional Indian movement in a program. An exceptionally thorough index of gestures, including photos, is linked through this page, while this video also offers a detailed rundown.
Maureen Ibanez and Neil Brown's 2007-08 original dance, set to the Bollywood number "Bole Chudiyan," is dominated more often than not by a fairly standard approach to the elements, but a number of choreographic touches do work to establish almost something more in line with a classical Indian approach than the flashier, bouncier Bollywood of the other dances:
Take, as one example, their opening sequence from 0:35-0:46 and compare with this invocatory bharatanatyman performance from Savitha Sastry:
Another, somewhat less faithful go at classical dance, also set to a Bollywood cut, was delivered in the same season by Zoe Blanc and Pierre-Loup Bouquet, adorned in rather less traditional costuming than the other examples offered here. While their opening sequence, too, points to the source genre with the gesture work, the overall movement and choreography is more ice-based than otherwise. The team works in their Indian movement primarily through occasional returns to gesture, such as the transition from the in-hold sequence moving into the no-touch step sequence at 1:55, creating a kind of patchwork of Indian-inspired dance and standard elements. But the gestures, though not especially well-articulated, can be traced to the mudras, such as Blanc's hamsasya while in lift at 2:49 and again in end pose.
While an attempt to reproduce similar gestures and body movements is clear in these more traditionally-inspired programs, one additional component is both quite evident in her performance and quite clearly absent in general from its on-ice counterparts: the use of eye movement, another layer of meaning in classical dance that may be of fairly minor consequence to a judging panel more concerned with larger and more skating-bound detail as well as simply difficult to carry through while executing elements and constant on-ice motion -- though a little nod is offered, as noted by commentators Tom Hammond and Tracy Wilson, in the opening moments of Davis and White's original dance.
One last, rather loose take on the concept of the Indian dance or Bollywood program may come from Lynn Kriengkrairut and Logan Giulietti-Schmitt, who in 2009-10 skated their free dance to selections from the Slumdog Millionaire score. The team focused their movement efforts almost exclusively in the lyrical vein -- yet they still opt to include a few gestural moments at midpoint:
In wrapping this look at Bollywood and bharatanatyam, it's important to note a certain irony of bringing either genre to a coupled-dance discipline: for as much a cornerstone as dance is of the Bollywood film, dance sequences between only a hero and heroine are infrequent or less dance-intensive than group sequences; classical dance, meanwhile, is traditionally a solo art. So ice dance by its nature, then, might be challenged by more than physics to most faithfully replicate its source matter -- but the most faithful efforts can also reveal the surprising possibilities for its on-ice recreation.
It stands to reason that any dance style characterized in part by sustained eye contact and sexual tension would, naturally, be embodied in compulsory dance form by a pattern skated almost exclusively in killian hold.
Rumba hit the ice in 1938, in the process acquiring an "H" in its name that binds it quite closely to its time and context. Name notwithstanding, this r(h)umba shouldn't be confused with the later-established International and American ballroom forms, and the pattern might, in its own way, be the purest legacy existing of the style's first introduction to American and European society. This first wave came not through exposure to the actual Afro-Cuban dance (which is a very different entity), but popular new Cuban music -- and, at that, in possible error, with hit song's "El Manisero (The Peanut Vendor)" identified to its American audiences as a rumba rather than a son. The dance that subsequently emerged may have been characterized by a certain style of music and movement, but what it was not bound by was tempo. The possibility for an upbeat rumba, while anathema to its subsequent ballroom development, was actually preserved in its compulsory dance counterpart, with its 176 bpm tempo requirement a rather startling contrast to International rumba's range of around 96-112 or even the faster-paced American's of 120-144.
So what was created by Walter Gregory in London lived on through a standard compulsory pattern, demonstrated here by Marie-France Dubreuil and Patrice Lauzon:
Despite the couple's chemistry, the dance by its general nature is peppy and fairly devoid of the lusty tensions and conflicts by which both ballroom and Afro-Cuban form of the dance are characterized, to say nothing of its choreographic questionability. It has little to do with the dance outlined here, and certainly juxtaposing it against this example of a basic rumba from Franco Formica and Oxana Lebedew does little to justify the pattern's name:
But while ice dance may have liked its r(h)umba kicky and killian-heavy, the ballroom would take the greater share of influence in later years.
Much discussion of on-ice rumba zeroes in upon a program some expected to become the pattern for a revised take on the compulsory: Jayne Torvill and Christopher Dean's "Historia de un Amor" original dance, one of the vehicles of their 1994 Olympic comeback:
This piece is closer to a recognizable rumba than any compulsory pattern, but there's enough that's very much bound to the competitive ice. Most notably, the frequent closed holds, typically emblematic of a faithful recreation of ballroom, unusually here run somewhat counter to rumba's more open holds and separations. Certain choreographic flourishes, like the knee bends from 1:22-1:26, while well-suited to the music, don't contribute strongly to the rumba flavor and would serve equally well in any dramatic piece. For the limitations imposed on it, though, this program does convey direct Latin movement where it can. The hip sway is immediately noticed and present throughout, and the turns are a familiar touch, as is the somewhat languid pot-stirrer at 2:53. There are obvious injections of Latin passion with moments at 1:18 and 1:38. It is, overall, more of an ice dance rumba -- one much more familiar than the compulsory version -- than a rumba on ice, but its style is certainly drawn from its source dance.
The rumba returned to the original dance in 1999-00 and 2005-06, though in both cases in required combination with at least one additional (faster) Latin rhythm. Such a rule makes it trickier to scout out lengthy-enough examples of the style's further on-ice development, but a few can be spotted, and reflect a gradually growing influence from ballroom. The 1999-00 OD from Margarita Drobiazko and Povilas Vanagas -- scored in part, incidentally, to "Historia de un Amor" -- includes an authentic leg-wrap; Dubreuil and Lauzon's 2005-06 salsa/rumba combo must grapple with the inclusion of quite a few more required elements than the previous examples necessitated, but does incorporate a lot of rumba-esque flourish into its slow section.
But even as the feeling of an International ballroom rumba intensified, the choreographic division between that made for the ice and that for the floor certainly remained. Take a careful look, for example, at this 2010 exhibition performance from the high-profile if short-lived coupling of ballroom champion Slavik Krylklyvy and Anna Melnikova:
While there's much here to take into consideration, a few movements worth noting upfront are the opening pose at 0:52 and the rotational lift at 1:04, as well as the in-hold side-by-side work beginning at 3:01. There's also a fairly spectacular pot-stirrer at 3:47 which points up the possibly surprising fact that certain rotational footwork seems destined to be more smoothly executed on floor than ice. Overall, while rumbas designed for exhibition can take on a variety of elements and tricks while remaining in the simple framework of tempo, attitude, and general quality of movement, this particular piece presents a nice choreographic selection -- and is also one of the more-viewed strictly ballroom examples on YouTube.
When the rhumba was revived as the source pattern for the 2011-12 short dance, the vast majority of teams elected to pair it with the samba or another of the recommended quicker rhythms. And one team, working with choreographer Romain Haguenauer, went a very different route, choosing instead to highlight the rumba of the rhumba:
Any actual choreographic inspiration behind Alexandra Paul and Mitch Islam's program is unknown, but watching in conjunction with the above sample is interesting. The style is, like previous goes at rumba, designed to echo that of the floor, but certain elements are more striking than others. The rotational move at 1:44 is the most obvious derivation; the brief pot-stirrer at 2:20 and leg-wrap at 0:53 are slightly more general callbacks to ballroom Latin as seen in the other ice dance programs, much as particular moments in the no-touch step sequence, like the arm motions from 2:58-2:59 and hip and shoulder sway at about 3:04, are also suggestive. The quick flip lift at 3:27, though imperfect, can in ballroom context perhaps be considered a very simplified take on something like the movement at 1:20 in Slavik and Anna's dance. In this same context, even Paul and Islam's straight-line lift at 1:23 -- a particular element of the team's carried through several programs and dance genres over the seasons -- echoes just a little something along the lines of 4:21-4:23 in Slavik and Anna's performance. There's also a bit more in the general way of rumba movement here: the transition to the quicker "Havana Slide" -- less pure rumba than the 2046 Theme of the program's first half -- provides an opportunity for a few seconds of side-by-side in-hold "walking" movement.
Paul's costuming also, incidentally, seems a particularly rumba-inspired choice here.
R(h)umba's history on the ice is both long and relatively challenged. But development certainly points to a growing effort to blend the recognizable components of ballroom work with ice dance's restrictions. A true rumba can not be replicated, but the attempts to honor it more fully can provide a basis for more thorough experimentation in future. And by 2020, perhaps some revolutionary team will even sustain a high-speed pot-stirrer for three seconds or more.
Were it not for the demise of the compulsory dance, the following herein could have been ice dance's 2010-11 season.
The emergence of the hybrid short dance supplanted -- or, rather, subsumed -- not only the compulsory, but the original dance as well, in all its eclectic ballroom to Charleston to folk glory. And with the removal of that segment came the scrapping of not only the ISU's initial planned 2010-11 Midnight Blues compulsory, but, more key to our purposes: the Rhythms of the 1960s and 1970s original dance. The likelihood that every international team would have elected to dodge an option that permitted easy rhythms, in-hold movement, and multiple appropriate lift options is, to be sure, unlikely: Ice disco would have seen its high-profile competitive day.
We are all well familiar with the floor dance, thanks, if nothing else, to the enduring legacy of retro callbacks and parody. But a little history of the genre's development makes an interesting read, illuminating its actual cultural and stylistic origins. Disco was not born of white polyester leisure suits, but of decade-old remnants of jitterbug and swing and more than a touch of salsa and other Latin forms. While formal steps existed, however, disco as a mostly social endeavor was more often, in practice, a little more freeform, following prescribed patterns but mostly comprising walks and flourishes.
Disco also might be remembered a little more for solo showboating than as a partnered style, largely courtesy of John Travolta and a subsequent boom in solo freestyling. That spirit also has its place in skating, as Richard Dornbush can attest -- but the Hustle and its mates are of more relevance here.
This eHow series offers a good instructional look at some general partnered disco movement. Even more of a must-watch for a general understanding of partnered disco is this 1979/80 clip from Disco Step-by-Step, a Buffalo TV series dedicated to all things disco:
Movement is not exceptionally complex. The steps are often of a manageable pace and simplicity, the holds are generally open, and there's nothing too exotic about the turns. It could be replicated on ice with relative ease (and, in its movements as divorced from disco music, has been quite casually), and certainly with greater ease than another social style like hip-hop, but there's a curious fact: on-ice disco is, by and large, all about the flourish and the flourish alone.
The ur-disco program -- at least as far as YouTube is concerned -- is probably Megan Wing and Aaron Lowe's 1998 exhibition to "Knock On Wood":
It takes a little time to move into its danciest groove, but the disco feel is particularly evident at 1:15-1:20 and 2:00-2:07 while 2:11 brings a hallmark of many an ice disco program: the semi-headbanger rotational lift. 1:27 also brings in a through-the-legs move that we'll see again. The gesture, though, is the most obvious reference point to an idea of disco, but it's difficult to describe in any more technical detail; if a thorough glossary of disco arm movements exists, it has so far eluded me.
Well after Wing and Lowe's number came the emergence of several examples of contemporary disco on a popular stage: the choreographic efforts of Doriana Sanchez on So You Think You Can Dance. It's no sure thing that such numbers influenced the next generation of ice dance disco, but at the same time, it offers a rather reasonable point of comparison.
Among the show's disco numbers, it's hard to find many routines that match the energy of Janette and Brandon's while also offering some solid examples of general elements -- the in-hold dancing, the side-by-side gesture, and a few good lifts. The music selection may also sound familiar:
But it's left to a few other routines to demonstrate some key tricks that appeared in Wing and Lowe's number and will be in evidence in later programs. Assisted on-the-floor spins -- which we'll see later -- come in a straightforward manner from Sara and Neil, with the addition of a fun gender equality twist from Kayla and Brandon, and as the entrance and exit from a sequence that evolves into a semi-headbanger courtesy of Chelsie and Joshua. And Mollee and Nathan, for their part, provide us with an impressively gymnastic take on the through-the-legs maneuver.
The standard-bearer for disco on ice might be Emily Samuelson and Evan Bates's 2009 "You Should Be Dancing" exhibition. In-hold action is minimal, but the side-by-side movement is sharp, the requisite tricks are worked in well enough, and Bates even gets a few moments of solo glory:
It might be surprising that a compilation of multiple disco highlight moves comes in a program that should not be a disco number at all. The duets of Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell could by no means be classified as member of a musical genre that hadn't yet come into existence, but Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir still juxtaposed a variety of '60s inspired dance moves with some key disco tricks in 2012's "Ain't No Mountain High Enough":
Not only do we have the semi-headbanger and a through-the-legs move, but they are notably the only team in this group to offer an assisted floor -- ice -- spin, as demonstrated at 1:15.
It's important, though, to consider that each of these examples came through exhibition, a program in which flash and tricks overtake traditional required ice dance movement. What would a competitive take on disco have to offer for in-hold possibilities? Will we ever know?
Moving on for a time from the short dance, let's consider the ambitions of a few teams this season who, with the assistance of dance choreographers, tackled one of the less readily-adaptable genres of movement: modern dance and its offshoots.
Ice dance is more than familiar with Carmen. The dance realm has also tackled the composition with regularity, with one noteworthy version, featuring prima ballerina Maya Plisetskaya, scored by husband and composer Rodion Shchedrin's 1967 percussion-focused rearrangement of Bizet's suite -- the arrangement utilized in, among others, Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir's take on the story. Despite this musical borrowing, the Plisetskaya ballet bears little kinship to Virtue and Moir's free dance. Roland Petit's sensual 1949 version, however, offers up perhaps the best-known modern ballet take, and it's worth a view:
(As an aside, note the sequence beginning at 4:04, and this lift from Anna Cappellini and Luca Lanotte's own interpretation of Shchedrin's Carmen.)
But Virtue and Moir tackled not modern ballet, but modern dance -- a different beast, to be sure (and one the team has previously visited), even as skating's restrictions lend themselves to a sometimes more balletic approach. Modern dance is typically defined more by what it is not than what it is, with an emphasis on its freedom of spirit and movement, but a slightly more technical analysis is useful, as is this documentary clip which is rather technically vague but offers a bit of background and footage.
Carmen was the product of collaboration with choreographer and teacher Jennifer Swan, and like both a traditional dance work and a critically judged program, it underwent numerous revisions and tweaks over the season's course, though remained rooted in its modern aims. The program's final performance is a good starting point for an overview of the general grounded aesthetic, including the low center of gravity movement emphasized in the opening sequence and the conclusion of the twizzles, but take particular note of the two side-by-side passages beginning at 4:33, which showcase the most typically modern of all gestures in the piece, as well as Virtue's lift positions; the curve lift at 2:20, rotational at 5:30, and choreographic lift at 5:41 showcase more wild, free movement -- modern -- while the control exerted in the first half of the combination at 4:09 provides for a startling moment, one more reminiscent of the modern ballet concept.
It's helpful also to revisit an earlier conception of the program, here in its first outing at Skate Canada International. Notice the original spin, primarily its exit at 2:17. Movement is rooted as much as feasible in modern vernacular, but even truer to the spirit, it's never wasted; every motion matters, and every motion is tightly bound to the music.
While Carmen was the year's only top-level modern program, two elite teams tackled a related style -- contemporary -- with input from traditional choreographers. Contemporary dance, discussed in detail here, draws from many of the principles underlying modern, but incorporates more of ballet's emphasis on the leg, as well as borrowing some movement from non-Western dance.
Kaitlyn Weaver and Andrew Poje worked with dancer and choreographer Allison Holker, of So You Think You Can Dance fame, to create the initial draft of their "statue and sculptor" free dance, as discussed in these twoarticles. And while Weaver and Poje's program follows its own path, a good point of direct style comparison might be this So You Think You Can Dance contemporary routine choreographed by Travis Wall -- the opening pose certainly stands out:
The restructured version the team presented at Worlds loses the direct comparison offered by that moment, but retains, if not enhances, its contemporary attributes. Both partners, but Weaver especially, use great line and extension in the lifts, moving fluidly with a free sense of flow. The original version of the dance includes a mostly out-of-hold sequence from 2:12-2:25 which suggests the sort of side-by-side movement common in partnered contemporary and lyrical; the revised program, as posted below, loses this particular sequence but does offer a multi-level transitional moment from 2:47-2:54 as well as a more complex, rhythmic transition between the first two sets of twizzles at 2:35. The second program is, more than a general contemporary piece, a lyrical take on a wordless composition: catch the percussive heartbeat sequence beginning at 3:11 and the gradual, slight stiffening of Weaver's posture and movement as the music and narrative draw to their conclusion.
Lynn Kriengkrairut and Logan Giulietti-Schmitt's Adele-scored contemporary free dance did not originate with an off-ice conceit, but was revised late in the summer with input from choreographer Stacey Tookey, who was responsible for a So You Think You Can Dance contemporary number with a connection to the team's program:
Kriengkrairut and Giulietti-Schmitt's program deviates from the other two in another significant way as a kind of hybrid piece, with the second half, set to "Rumour Has It," based somewhat more in jazz movement. But the first half certainly draws from contemporary inspiration, particularly in its emphasis on extended movement -- watch her leg at 1:22, and watch the free legs of both partners during the step sequence beginning at 1:28. The opening movement from 0:39-0:55 is also notable for the immediate dynamism and flow it provides the program -- important given the slower, relatively heavy nature of the musical selection.
As a sidenote, when outside the confines of the rulebook, Kriengkrairut and Giullietti-Schmitt have had the chance to tackle more floor-inspired contemporary movement, as shown here in this selection from 2012's Young Artists Showcase, choreographed by Robert Mauti. But of course, freedom from rules makes a free-flowing genre more possibly even granted ice's own impositions; it's interpreting that style within competition's confines that makes the true accomplishment.
Among the less direct approaches taken to this season's Yankee Polka is the Gallic route: the polka lends itself rather intriguingly to French style. And for more than one established team this season, the polka recommended itself to the can-can.
The can-can itself descends directly from the appropriately 2/4-timed galop, a popular nineteenth-century European country dance which itself would later give rise to the...polka. After a spell as a social dance, the can-can's flashier aspects would lend itself to its development as a performative style, a good demonstration of which is offered in this vintage clip:
Notice the splits, please, as well as Offenbach's "Infernal Galop," the musical selection so synonymous with all things can-can that it's referred to by the dance's name more often than not.
While this video gives us the most classic of classical can-can, of note was the social, coupled nature of its earliest incarnation, with men and women performing the dance's assorted splashy movements in concert. While video of this take on the floor dance is difficult to locate, the general idea, one might guess, lives on rather well in Kharis Ralph and Asher Hill's take on the style, which is preceded by an appropriately bubbly take on Gigi. From 1:54 onward, Hill's movements, from high kicks to even more, match Ralph's to an almost startling degree:
Of course, the traditional French can-can is the centerpiece of Nathalie Pechalat and Fabian Bourzat's "Moulin Rouge" dance (performed here for the Parisian Trophee Eric Bompard audience), wherein the partnered aspect is less about a shared performance and more about a patron's flirtations with a music hall dancer. Traditional skirt choreography, little utilized in Ralph and Hill's more couple-oriented piece, is a major above-the-blade component of this can-can:
As a sidenote, the slowed-down rendition of Offenbach's piece accompanying Pechalat and Bourzat's Yankee Polka sequences is indeed but a slowed-down rendition of the "Infernal Galop." But at least it isn't this.
The audience-grabbing appeal of the can-can notwithstanding, however, another couple demonstrates that there's more than one way to de-Yankeefy the Polka.
The bal-musette might be the main source of inspiration for any French-themed program that tackles a social rhythm like waltz or polka and aesthetically calls back to the late nineteenth through mid-twentieth century. This was the angle taken by a team like Delobel and Schoenfelder in their 2010 Olympics original dance, an interesting little bridge piece between the waltzes and the can-cans. And if the genre reached its peak popularity in the 1940s and '50s, then Alexandra Paul and Mitch Islam's Edith Piaf-scored waltz/polka might be considered the ultimate heydey of bal-musette kind of program -- even if Piaf isn't often associated with social dance.
One irony is the fact that Piaf's waltz "La Foule," which kicks off Paul and Islam's SD, is actually a cover of Peruvian vals "Que nadie sepa mi sufrir." Piaf's rendition, though, adjusts the pacing and substitutes in more traditional bal-musette instrumentation, transforming a South American tango cousin into essentially a sprightlier version of French musical waltz (compare with "Padam Padam" or Madison Chock and Greg Zuerlein's 2010-11 use of such).
What makes for a sprightly French waltz song, however, is a little different from what typically may accompany a French valse dance. YouTube's pickings are slim, but a few moments with the valse musette or the folk waltz are reasonably instructive:
Here we come again to the interesting quandary of competitive skate versus traditional floor dance, and the valse musette as demonstrated in Jazz Age-era clips is possibly even less compatible with the demands of an ice dance program. The rotations at 0:56-0:58 and 1:42-1:43 in Paul and Islam's program above might be the closest approximations to valse musette movement, with allowance made for physics and a slightly more laidback tempo. Certainly, the greater part of a short dance is concerned with the inclusion of required elements; while a country-western program, for example, can borrow from that style's vernacular in a variety of ways, the valse musette is, as can be seen, a fairly repetitive dance. Paul and Islam's program holds together tightly -- and is probably a stronger waltz, with its emphasis on closed holds and close skating, than many others calling upon that rhythm -- but its style may be less traditional French dance and more idea of French dance. It's not at all a choreographic parent, but there's a certain theatrical stylistic sensibility just a little reminiscent of, say, a French-set musical.
